The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

At no point during the rest of the journey did Eperitus’s sharp senses tell him they were being watched, even from a distance. It was eerie and unsettling and hardly a word was spoken as the band of warriors trudged through the unhappy country. For the first time they were witnessing the hidden cost of the war against Troy, and it seemed Odysseus’s guess of the evening before was right. Without the protection of their kings, the people had withdrawn to the walled towns and cities for safety from the groups of armed thieves that roamed the countryside. The land had been abandoned and trade would have all but died out, to be replaced by poverty, hunger and disease. And if the war lasted for much longer, there would be no Greece to return to.

After a while they passed through a knot of trees and came to a place that Eperitus felt was vaguely familiar. The river was broken by a series of rocks and the soft sound of the water now became a roar as it crashed against them. In the centre, where the river was deepest and the current quickest, three boulders stood up like black knuckles, while a shelf of rock jutted out from the nearest bank to make the passage by boat perilous indeed.

‘Recognise the place?’ Odysseus asked.

Eperitus gave a laugh and nodded. ‘Of course, this is where we crossed the river on our way to Sparta twenty years ago. Didn’t we build a raft further upstream from here, where the waters are calmer?’

‘We repaired an abandoned ferry so we could get those mules across, do you remember? Then one of them panicked and knocked old Halitherses into the river. You dived in after him, before he could be battered to death against these rocks.’

‘That’s right,’ Eperitus said, more solemnly.

He vaguely recalled the cold, fast water and the sight of Halitherses, the former captain of the guard, being taken along by the current ahead of him.

‘We pulled you both out of the water by that shelf of rock,’ Odysseus added. ‘We were so young then, and old Halitherses seemed like such a relic to us. Now we’re not far off the same age that he was.’

They gave the rapids a final glance and then followed in the wake of the others. They passed a small, rotten jetty where boats could be moored rather than risking the peril of the rocks, and shortly after entered the shade of a wood that skirted the banks of the river. Its cool, green gloom was a pleasant relief after the growing heat of the morning, but they were soon out in the open again, trudging along the rutted, overgrown track that would eventually take them to Pisa. Their footsteps grew heavy and they felt the sweat running in rivulets beneath their close-fitting armour, but for men who could fight all day long under a Trojan sun there was no need for rest. And both Odysseus and Diomedes were determined to reach the tomb as quickly as possible.

Shortly after midday, they came upon a bend in the river where the fast-flowing water curved around the spur of a low hill. As they climbed the ridge, Eperitus spotted a flash of whitewashed walls gleaming in the distance. Shielding his eyes against the bright sunshine, he could make out a large town nestled within the fold between two hills, not far from the river. It was surrounded by modest battlements and had a single gateway that he could see, guarded by a tall tower. Two men in armour – the first signs of human life he had seen since leaving the deserted fishing village at dawn – stood watch as an ox-drawn cart struggled along the tree-lined road towards the gate. The town was still a long way off, but in-between was a small wood from which a thin trail of smoke was drifting up into the clear sky. On the opposite bank of the river a domed mound rose like a dark mole on the face of the land.

‘I can see a town,’ he announced. ‘It’s still a good way off, but it has walls and guards and there are signs of more life inside.’

‘That must be Pisa,’ said Diomedes, squinting in the direction Eperitus was pointing.

‘Can you see a temple?’ Odysseus asked.

‘No, but you see the trail of smoke coming from that wood? There’s a small hill on the opposite bank of the river. That could be the tomb.’